


His Huntress

by MamaJMarie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I'll update Tags when I figure out what all I should be tagging with, M/F, Mild torture, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaJMarie/pseuds/MamaJMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before becoming the Dark One, before Baelfire was old enough to be drafted into the Ogre's war, Rumplestiltskin met someone who would change his life. </p><p>Mixing Once Upon a Time with some legends and mythology, and trying to see what I come up with. I hope you like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything. If you recognize any of it, I don't own it. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is made from this.

Aine had flown in her raven form for days; she needed to get back to her own form. She was supposed to be meeting her mother's sisters-in-arms outside the small northern village three days' ride from the front lines of the Ogre Wars, but was still almost six weeks ahead of their arrival.

 

She surveyed the bustling town market from her perch in the trees high above. Any would be obliged to give hospitality if asked, but she preferred to avoid nobility. Noblemen tended to be of the mind that any fae woman under their roof was obliged to repay him on her back.

 

Down below, the local baron had thundered his horse into the village with his entourage, searching for 'volunteers' to add to his troops. The baron decreed that the age for the draft had been lowered again, this time all able-bodied youths of 16 years or more were to be sent to the front lines. Meanwhile, the knights in his troupe had singled out a target for their scorn that day, the target was a crippled peasant man leaning heavily on a staff, trying to avoid notice as he made his way home.

 

One of the knights bumped him roughly, knocking the man to the ground. The fall also sent his staff skittering away from him. The other knights began guffawing as he scrambled on his knees in the dust to retrieve his crutch. Just as he began to pull himself up, another of the knights delivered a kick to his backside, knocking him and his staff back onto the ground. The baron finally finished his proclamation and called his knights back to their horses and rode off. His tormentors finally gone, the man slowly got to his feet and made his way home.

 

His home was on the outskirts of the village, a fairly small cottage with a thatched roof and a small boy playing out front. The boy ran to his father, hugging him tightly. Aine smiled; the very same magic that made noblemen far less noble around fae maids would also bless those who freely gave hospitality. She flew into the hedgerow that bordered the man's land; shifting back to herself as she landed.

 

Rumpelstiltskin had just returned home from taking a bundle of spun wool to the weaver's when he saw a beautiful woman walk out of the bushes. She was short and curvy, with large blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and long, straight, black hair fanned out behind her. She wore a simple traveling dress and bright green cloak, and bowed her head as she neared him. “Good sir, would you have a loft in your barn or spot at your hearth you would be willing to let a traveler borrow in exchange for work or coin for the next few weeks?”

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

The first week in Storybrooke after the wedding of Ruthven Gold and Belle French was fairly uneventful. The following week everyone seemed to have a little bit of bad luck. Nothing major; pencils breaking, pens unexpectedly running out of ink, light bulbs bursting at inopportune time. The worst bits of luck belonged to the newlyweds themselves. Upon leaving their home on Friday, they discovered that apparently the right front and left rear tires on his luxury car both had a slow leak overnight as both were completely flat. Once the garage had been called and tires changed, he dropped her off at the library and went to his shop. It was nearly lunchtime when he discovered that he was not alone in the shop; apparently a raven had managed to find its way inside and perched on the spinning wheel he kept in his office.

 

The next week was just a touch worse. Monday, when Ruby knelt down to fix the easel-sign in front of Granny's, the leash on Dr. Hopper's dog, Pongo broke. Two minutes later, a red-faced Dr. Hopper was apologizing to a very annoyed Ruby, while Pongo was trying his best to get back to the new love of his life. Tuesday saw Emma accidentally lock herself into the cell in the corner of the sheriff’s office. It was nearly an hour before Killian came in to drop off lunch and retrieved the keys for her from the pocket of the jacket on the back of her chair. Wednesday, a pair of 12 year old boys fighting over a contraband Playboy managed to knock over the ENTIRE card catalog at the library. Thursday, Regina found half of a worm in the apple she had packed in her lunch, and spent the next five minutes rinsing her mouth out with whiskey. There was no mouthwash in her office, after all. Friday found Mr. Gold locked out of his shop for most of the afternoon, that damnable bird had found its way inside again and made off with his keys. He'd chased after it, trying to use magic to freeze it. Not only did the magic not work, but he managed to bump the door shut, and it locked securely as the bird finally dropped the keys, right into the gutter. As he used his cellphone to call the locksmith to come let him back in and re-key the doors to his shop, Mr. Gold watched the raven come to land in a tree across the way. It was joined by a few of its kin, and he swore they were all staring at him.

 

********************************************************************************

 

A few days had gone by. The first evening, there was a slight disagreement over which of the adults would be sleeping in the, apparently much-coveted, spot at the hearth. Baelfire settled the debate with a sleepy “Why don't you just share it?” muttered from his bed. And thus, the debate ended with Aine sleeping in the bed beside Rumpelstiltskin for the duration.

 

At first, it was a peaceful, and platonic, arrangement. Aine helped the spinner and his son however she could, but also spent a portion of each day in her raven form, watching and waiting for her aunts. In the evenings, she insisted on cooking despite Rumple's insistence that as a guest she shouldn't. Afterward, every evening for the duration of her stay, the two adults would sit out behind the tiny cottage waiting for Bae to fall asleep.

 

Within the week, tiny glances were being stolen. Bae was the first one to notice the admiring glances his father was bestowing on their guest when her back was turned. Rumple would watch in the mornings as she sat out back and ran a comb through her long, black hair, and in the evenings as she would hum a tune while cooking. Likewise, the eleven-year-old noticed the fae woman's eyes lingering on his father as he would sit at the spinning wheel.

 

He noticed that neither would say anything, and would look away quickly if they realized he had noticed. He started staying awake just a little bit longer each night, knowing that the 'adults' would sit outside talking and trying to ignore the magic subtly forming between them.

 

***********************************************************

 

A full two months after Belle and Gold's wedding, people were beginning to find themselves in the Emergency Room. Minor injuries and illnesses, but Storybrooke usually only saw one or two people in the ER per month. Grumpy managed to sprain his elbow swinging his pickaxe on Monday. Tuesday saw Granny with a second degree burn on her arm from an unexpected rip in an oven mitt. Wednesday was a minor outbreak of food poisoning at the convent where the good fairies lived. Thursday, uncomfortably early, Killian 'Hook' Jones had to be rescued from an accidental attachment to a telephone pole. Rum and a late-night showing of “Singing in the Rain” seemed to be to blame, but the pirate was admitting nothing. Friday saw a rush in the Emergency Room: David sliced his hand open while cleaning his sword, Geppetto got sawdust in both eyes, Ashley (Cinderella) managed to twist her ankle, and Belle managed to get a paper-cut from a cardboard carton on her wrist that ended up requiring stitches (A/ N: those friggin' things hurt like a sonofabitch).

 

It was then, standing in the waiting room surrounded by unusual and spontaneous injuries, that Rumplestiltskin realized something strange was going on in Storybrooke. That many accidents, that much bad luck, had to mean that something was cursing the town, and it was just beginning to gain strength.

 

*****************************************************************

 

By the middle of week two, Rumplestiltskin was ready to admit to himself that he was smitten by his lovely fae boarder. He had woken up more than once beyond grateful that she was, apparently, a heavy sleeper. They had wound up cuddled together more than a few nights, now, and he was only a man. His body had been ready to admit to the feelings his mind had been refusing to acknowledge. It was embarrassing, having to slip out of his own bed in the early hours of the morning to go out by the well to splash himself with cold water, and when that failed, have a quick wank. It was even worse this morning. Bae had caught him sitting on the ground at the far side of the well, whisper-groaning Aine's name as he found completion.

 

It was a small mercy that the boy had the decency to not actually watch, and had waited until he was finished, and was wiping away the evidence. Bae had leaned over the well to lift the bucketful of water and whispered, “She knows that you're awake. Told her that I would tell you breakfast was nearly done when you came back from relieving yourself.” When he saw his father's embarrassed face, he quickly added, “Not like that! As in...watering the plants.” Rumple wasn't sure which was worse, that Bae knew what he was actually doing, or that he knew that their houseguest was the source of the need.

 

Later that day, after Aine had left to watch for her 'aunts', Baelfire told his father that he had seen him watching her. And that she wasn't as sound a sleeper as Rumple had thought. Apparently, she had woke up in those same predawn hours, before he had, and simply enjoyed laying in his arms. When she felt Rumple begin to stir, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep to allow him to salvage his dignity.

 

“She said that she was wishing that this was her life. That she didn't want to go off to the Northlands with her aunts. Papa, she wants to stay with us. Please, Papa, can't you talk to her and see if there's a way?” Bae knew it was unlikely, but she had said that she wished to stay. He had already began to wish that she was his new mother; if she was able to stay, he might even have a brother or sister soon. He knew his father loved children, and wanted a larger family.

 

He would also drop heavy-handed hints to Aine whenever his papa wasn't around. A word here about wishing she was his new mother; another time pointing out that his Papa was the happiest he'd ever seen him. Bae was only too happy to point out with a smile when Rumple would get up in the predawn hours to step outside. It was more than slightly embarrassing, that a boy as young as Baelfire knew that his father wanted to know her in the most intimate of ways.

 

That evening, after Bae was sent to bed, as had become their habit, Rumple and Aine sat outside behind the small home. The silence between them was slightly awkward at first, the attraction between them not as secret as it had been. Both knew that their feelings were a: not as secret as they thought; and b: at least partially reciprocated.

 


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It does get pretty steamy in this chapter, just for a heads up!

The weekend after the rush at the Emergency Room was remarkably quiet. There seemed to be no sign of the bad luck that had been plaguing Storybrooke. The newlyweds were able to spend the day at home. Rumplestiltskin was sitting at his spinning wheel in the library, when Belle came in to recline on one of the sofas.

He looked up when he noticed the leather cover of the tome Belle had with her. It was covered with smooth green leather, that had a shimmer to it when the light hit it. But it was the symbol, etched on the cover in gold, that caught his eye. The front cover held a Celtic knotwork triangle with a double-bladed ax head set at its center.

He froze, one hand poised above the top of the spinning wheel. “Now, where did you get that, Belle?” he asked. The note of concern was barely discernible in his voice.

“It was donated to the library anonymously. This is what was in the carton that did this,” she said, holding up the hand with the stitches. “I thought it might be an antique tome, and I wanted to read it before I added it to the collection. But,” she said, opening it to the first page, “it appears that its some sort of handwritten journal. 'The Right Hand of the Huntress,' sounds like an impressive title. I wonder who actually wrote it.” She began to open the book to search for the author's name.

Rumple was on his feet, crossing the distance between himself and his new bride. “Belle, can I have a look at that?” At her inquisitive look, he assured her, “I don't think its dangerous, but I do think that I recognize that symbol. I just want a look to see if I'm right.”

She gave him an indulgent smile, and handed him the book. “Alright. But don't give me any spoilers.”

“Of course I won't, Belle. I just want to take a look and see if I recognize the author or can find out where he or she found that symbol,” he said, giving her a quick kiss as he took the book.

*****************************************************************************

Once the secret attraction they held for each other was out in the open, Rumplestiltskin and Aine were beginning to grow closer. Nothing too intimate in front of Bae, but the difference was there. A smile exchanged, a brush of the hand whenever they would pass each other. They would exchange a chaste kiss as she left to watch for her aunts, even as they both hoped that she wouldn't see them.

The evenings after putting Bae to bed were still marked by the pair sitting outside behind the cottage. Instead of quiet conversation about the day, or various stories about their respective youths; the evenings would be spent snuggled up together wrapped up in his cloak like a blanket. Heated kisses would be shared, the stars bearing witness to the first blush of love.

Once they were certain that Baelfire was asleep, Rumple and Aine would slip back inside. She would use a tiny bit of power to ensure that no sight or sound would pass from the bed. That done, the kisses became deeper, passion became inflamed.

They began to explore each others bodies in the darkness. The virginal fae traced her hands along the spinner's lean body, caressing the sinewy muscles with fingertips and lips. Her exploration stopped nervously at the edge of his breeches. His work-callused fingers explored her curves, cupping her breasts, teasing the nipples into hard points. Her dress was quickly tugged over her head, baring her to him in the dim light of the banked fire. He slipped one hand between her thighs, stroking her heated flesh as she rocked against him. His fingers danced over the sensitive skin as he brought her to ecstasy for the first time in her life.

He kissed her as she toppled over the peak, drinking in her sighs. Once she managed to catch her breath, she started to press her lips to his jawline and allowed her hands to wander again. This time, instead of stopping at the drawstring of his pants as she had before, she tentatively loosened the knot holding them tight to his hips. Once the strings gave way, Aine slipped her hand inside. Her fingertips skimmed the hard plane of his hipbones before they encountered the coarse hair at the base of his manhood. He moaned quietly as she wrapped her hand around his shaft.

He stopped her only for a moment, to shove his breeches past his hips. A gasp escaped her lips at the sight of his erection. It only took a moment for her to find a rhythm that had him moaning her name. Soon, between the feel of her silken hand and the sight of her so enraptured at his body, Rumple felt his own climax rushing to the surface. It was all happening so fast, and soon his seed was spattering across his abdomen. He started to reach for a cloth, but Aine stopped him. She ran a finger through the sticky white fluid, then raised it to her lips. He moaned when she sucked her finger clean, then moved to lick the rest off his stomach.

*****************************************************************************

Regina and Emma entered Gold's Pawnshop at the same time. Rumplestiltskin had sounded worried on the phone when he had called them, and anything that was powerful enough to worry him was more than enough to cause concern with the two of them.

“Thank you, ladies, for coming quickly. I've managed to find the source of the trouble that has been plaguing our fair town.” He held up the book. “What do the two of you know about the Wild Hunt?”

Emma looked confused. “Other than it sounds like the name of a high school rock band, not much.”

Regina gave her a bored look. “The Wild Hunt was a group of entities that possessed a magic beyond anything else, but it was nothing more than a rumor. There was never a group of fairies traveling the world to bring evil to justice. Otherwise, Gold, you and I would have already had run-ins with them.”

“Actually, dearie, the Wild Hunt is real. They are called fae not fairies, and I have had dealings with them. I was once very close with one of the riders of the Hunt. They tend to focus on oath breakers and those who kill their own kin,” he said, laying the green leather book onto the counter. “What we have to figure out is why the Hunt is here now, and how to appease them.”

He opened the book to a page about halfway through. “Now, the fae are always drawn to celebrations. We don't know exactly which pack of the Wild Hunt we've got, but we should be able to summon a few members to allow us to inquire as to who the guilty party is.”

Emma interrupted, “We're not just going to arbitrarily hand someone over to a group of wild fae,” she had a confused look on her face.

“Of course not, dearie. But the fact remains that we need to know what we're up against before we can decide on a course of action.” He motioned to the opened book. “To summon them, we'll need some sort of a party. Now, I know that a party seems counter-intuitive at a time like this, but it is the best way to summon them.”

“What's the other way? I don't think anyone in town is exactly in a party mood,” Regina said, the annoyance coloring her voice. “You said you were close with one of the riders, can't you just summon him?”

“First off, the Hunter I was close with was a woman. Second, there's no easy way to say this, but there are only two other ways to summon the Wild Hunt: the request of a truly virtuous man or woman, or to intentionally do something to draw them here. Now I don't know about you, but I don't particularly relish the idea of being hunted and chased to ground like a rabbit.” He gave a derisive chuckle, “And not one of us in this room qualifies as a 'virtuous' person as far as the Hunt is concerned. It requires one to be a virgin, and live a guilt-free life.”

Emma noticed that he was hiding something, not that it was unusual for him to withhold information, but... “What aren't you saying about your friend in the Hunt?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Now, Miss Swan, while no one has ever accused me of being a gentleman, I still know better than to kiss and tell. And before you get the wrong idea, it was quite some time ago.”

“Well,” Regina said, clearing her throat, “it would seem we have a party to plan. I think, given the circumstances and with Halloween coming up, perhaps an outdoor masquerade?”

*****************************************************************************

The next few weeks in the spinner's cottage flew past. Every day, Aine would check to see if there was word from her aunts, and every day returned with guarded happiness to announce that there wasn't. By the end of the seventh week, she was finally beginning to hope that her aunts had simply forgotten about her. Bae had already voiced his opinion on the matter, and while nothing was ever said aloud, it was obvious that Rumple felt the same. It was a quiet hope, that they would be allowed to simply live out their lives.

It was a hope that seemed to be coming to fruition, as time continued to pass with no word from her aunts. Late in the evening that marked the end of the eighth week they had been together, as they sat outside waiting for Bae to fall asleep, Rumplestiltskin asked Aine to be his wife. When she smiled and breathlessly answered him with a kiss, they knew they would be outside a while longer. Their betrothal was sealed by an overjoyed Baelfire cheering from inside the house.

When they did finally make it to their bed, the pair could barely keep their hands off each other long enough for her to cast the veil spell. Clothes were removed with remarkable speed, and his crutch dropped beside the bed, as they tumbled to the mattress in love's embrace.

Their bodies joined together in the most ancient dance. As their hearts began to beat as one, neither noticed the ancient magic beginning to swirl around them. It bathed their bodies in light, drawing words older than time to Aine's lips. Rumple rolled them so that she was riding him, her eyes clenched in pleasure, as she whispered, “Mo chroí cheangal a mise, anois agus do gach tráth, dhá anamacha fite. Beidh mé grá agat mar a bhfuil tú, agus mar a bheidh tú riamh. [My heart bound to yours, now and for all times, two souls entwined. I will love you as you are and as you ever will be.]” He repeated her words in a whisper as her fingers traced her personal seal, a knotwork triangle with the head of a double-bladed battleaxe on the center.

*****************************************************************************

A Halloween masquerade was quickly planned. Plans were made for the roads into the center of town to be blocked off and the whole area was decorated with black and purple streamers, hanging spiders and bats. A buffet table was going to be set up with goodies provided by Granny's; sugar-cookie “fingers” with almond slices for nails, cherry “eyeballs” dipped in white chocolate, and a huge rectangular container of dirt cake complete with headstone. The house band from the Rabbit Hole was pressed into service to provide music, with a strict warning to keep the lyrics pg-13. All in all, not bad for quickly thrown together.

Emma was “elected” to deliver the invitation to the Hunt by those that knew that the party wasn't just for the sake of community spirit. So three days before Halloween, she found herself standing in the middle of Main Street at midnight, alone, holding an overly-fancy scroll. Mary Margaret, David, Regina, Gold, and Belle were all watching from inside the pawnshop. It went without saying that she felt utterly ridiculous, and wasn't one hundred percent certain that this wasn't a practical joke. She read in a loud voice, “The nobility and citizens of Storybrooke extend an invitation to the Wild Hunt to join us as we gather to celebrate Hallowe’en. The masquerade will take place three days from now at sundown.”

From the distance, there was the sound of thunderous hoofbeats and a shrill whinny. Suddenly a great black horse stood before her, a man clad in leather armor astride it. “On behalf of the Huntress, and all who ride with her, I accept the invitation. What will you request we, as your guests, bring in honor of the celebration?”

“Um...” Emma shot a quick glance to the pawnshop window. Nobody had mentioned this. “Could you bring some drinks?” she asked, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

The horseman let out a booming laugh. “Yes, Princess Emma Swan, Sheriff of Storybrooke, the Hunt will gladly provide drinks. We shall see you all at sundown on Hallowe'en.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “And please tell Rumplestiltskin that the Morrigan lays claim to the first dance. He will understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it, comment and let me know!  
> If you don't like it, comment and make a suggestion for making it better!  
> No real comments or criticisms, just leave a comment to say hi!  
> Comments help keep the writer's block at bay, and that makes updates happen faster!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it, leave me a note!  
> If you don't like it, leave me some constructive criticism!  
> Completely ambivalent? Leave me a smiley-face or just say HI!


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